


The Right Wrong Number

by Shippershape



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippershape/pseuds/Shippershape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke gets off work in the middle of the night, and she gets a phone call she isn't expecting. Bellamy's just a friend's brother, and she's just a wrong number, but maybe they can both be something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Wrong Number

Clarke set down her glass of wine, propping her feet up on the coffee table. It had been a long day. Nine hours of a rotation on the peds floor, nine hours of sick and screaming children, of worried and frustrated parents. She was exhausted. Wanting nothing more than to marathon all the House Hunters on her PVR, Clarke turned on her tv, and was just settling into the first episode when her phone rang. Groaning, she hit pause and answered without checking to see who it was. The only possible caller at this time of night was the hospital, and calling her into work after the day she’d had seemed cruel even for them.

“Hello?” She hadn’t meant for it come out so hostile, but she was exhausted, and more than a little annoyed.

“Hey, it’s me. Want to come over?” The very male, slightly slurred voice on the end of the line was definitely not Clarke’s surgical chief.

“Who is this?” She asked glancing at the screen. She nearly dropped the phone in surprise. “Bellamy?” The last time she’d seen him was at her best friend’s birthday party six months ago. Clarke loved Octavia but she’d found her brother arrogant and rude. Still, they’d exchanged numbers after he promised to hook her up with a limited edition print she’d been looking all over for. He’d delivered on the painting, and they hadn’t spoken since. Why on earth he’d be calling her at one in the morning on a Thursday she really couldn’t imagine.

“Obviously.” He replied to her question, and she could hear his smirk through the phone.

“Why are you calling me at one in the morning?” Clarke asked, though she’d already started forming an idea. He had clearly been drinking. “Is this a booty call?” The answering laughter had her crinkling her nose in amusement. She’d never heard Bellamy laugh before, and it was a joyful, contagious sound.

“Once again, obviously. Come on Jenna, I’m too buzzed to play games.” He was. Clarke could hear it in his voice. She was also now figuring out that he had meant to call someone else.

“Hey, Bellamy?”

“Yeah?” He sounded so relaxed, not at all like the asshole she’d met at Octavia’s birthday.

“This is Clarke.”

“Clarke. Clarke?”

“Clarke.” She confirmed. Silence followed. “Bellamy?”

“I-yeah. Clarke. From the painting.” Clarke was surprised he remembered, seeing as it had been months since they’d spoken.

“That’s me.” Picking her glass of wine up again, she decided this might be better entertainment the couple buying a condo in Antigua. “Who’s Jenna?”

“She’s uh, a friend.” He hesitated. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Sounds like you’re pretty good too.” He laughed. Again, Clarke found it contagious. She found that she loved his laugh, wanted to hear it more. “You and Jenna have big plans?” Her question earned her another chuckle. It was addicting.

“Well, if I can ever get ahold of her. You?” Clarke sighed in answer to his question, not wanting to admit the uneventful night she had planned.

“Not exactly. I have to be up in a few hours to go to work.” She glanced at the clock. Back to work in less than eight hours. This was her life.

“Oh. Shit.” He suddenly sounded concerned. “Did I wake you up?” She was touched that he would even care. Monty and Jasper were constantly showing up at her place in the middle of the night to crash on her couch. She lived across the street from the hospital, and they both worked in the labs there.

“No, it’s fine. I just got home.” She knew she should probably be getting to bed, the House Hunters marathon had been a bad idea, but she found she didn’t want to hang up.

“Wha- who gets off work in the middle of the night and has to go back in the morning?” He was indignant, and Clarke realized it was on her behalf. Once again, she was touched.

“Surgeons?” She offered.

“You’re a surgeon?”

“Last time I checked.” He let out a whistle.

“That explains how you could afford that painting. I thought maybe you were a princess or something.” It was Clarke’s turn to laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sure I look just like royalty.” She said, realizing she’d finished her wine. Glancing back at her clock she was surprised to see how long she’d been talking to Bellamy.

“You do. Your hair-” He stopped. “You do.” It was like something had changed, all of a sudden. The connection between them suddenly felt tangible, like she could reach out and touch him. She found herself wishing she could. Picturing the way he’d looked at the party, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, all scowling and sexy. It didn’t help the flush had spread across her cheeks. She wanted to blame it on the wine, but knew herself well enough that it would feel like a lie.

“I.. I should let you go. Jenna’s probably waiting for your call.” Even though he couldn’t see her, Clarke forced a smile.

“Yeah. Probably. Unless…” Clarke waited. “I mean you could come over, for a bit.” Now smiling widely, Clarke sighed.

“Goodnight, Bellamy.”

“Goodnight.”

That night, Clarke had the best sleep she’d had in ages, despite the fact that a certain tousle headed art dealer kept making appearances in her dreams. Then again, she mused, as she finished checking on her six year old appendectomy patient, maybe  _he_  was the reason she’d slept so well.


End file.
